Nothing criminal, just dumb, silly stuff - dancing with the lampshade on your head kind of silly stuff.

I also had some of the Best Drinkin' Buddies a Dumbass Could Ever Have. They had my back and if I did something extra stoopid, their lips were sealed.

What happened at The Dumbass Dome, stayed at The Dumbass Dome.

Then again, I never had a parrot as a member of my posse.

South of the Border

An hombre down in Mexico is a fine example of a Professional Drinker, Meskin Division.

Guillermo Reyes, Meskin Professional Drinker, went out on the town one night to have a little fun. His itinerary consisted of oral consumption of vast quantities of the Nectar of the Blue Agave (tequila), doing the Horizontal Meskin Hat Dance with some nubile Meskin putas (whores) and smoking some Acapulco Gold.

OK...I made up the part about Pesos Para Putas and smoking some sinsemilla. <---This is the Meskin word for "seedless".

Sinsemilla casually translates into English as "some mind-blowing shit".

But, I digress.

Anyway, Guillermo was out gettin' bien borracho (<---Meskin for "commode-huggin' drunk) and when the evening was over he decided to drive to La Casa.

So Guillermo mounted his trusty steed, a low riding '64 Chebby with pink and purple tuck and roll, twice pipes and fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror. There was also a small statue of the Virgin Mary secured to the dashboard by some Elmer's Glue.

Pray for us sinners....

Guillermo almost shoved his foot through the floor board of his '64 Chebby with pink and purple tuck and roll, twice pipes and fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror as he mashed the gas pedal further downward.

The 300 HP, 327 cubic inch power plant under the hood roared to life and soon Guillermo was racing down the streets of the City at a top speed of nearly 27 miles per hour!

His passenger, a parrot, (yes, a parrot!) was screaming at the top of his lungs, "Slow down, Guillermo Reyes, Professional Drinker, Meskin Division!" So Guillermo slowed down.

Jail House Chickens

But that was only because of the Meskin version of a sobriety checkpoint, the The Punto El Check-o for Los Drunks, that impeded his progress.

Guillermo made his way through the Line of Driving Professional Drinkers, Meskin Division to the sobriety checkpoint when the parrot began squawking, presumably in Spanish, ""He's drunk! He's drunk!"

The Federales determined that Guillermo was indeed FUBARed. Los Feds then extended to Guillermo a most gracious offer of food and shelter for the evening at one of Mexico's finest penal institutions. And by "one of Mexico's finest penal institutions", I of course mean a roach-infested, smelling of piss and sweaty Meskins, 8 feet by 8 feet concrete floored cell. On the bright side, Guillermo now had 37 other Professional Drinkers, Meskin Division as amigos.

Behind every storm cloud there is a silver lining, they say.

There is no word on what happened to the parrot.

Although, I have it on good authority that lunch in the jail in which Guillermo was confined the next day was "chicken" and rice. (arroz con pollo).